Chasing Kites
by TheSorrowfulWolf
Summary: "Are you ready?" The question is whispered in the older girl's signature husk and you internally swoon at both the tone of Reagan's voice and the sincerity in her words as her dark eyes search yours for any uncertainty. You nod without hesitation, because you are ready. You're sure that you want to take this step; sure that Reagan is the one you want to take this step with.


**Did I just write lesbian smut? Because it looks like I just wrote lesbian smut. (Sorry Ma.)**

**Just needed to get this written and out of my system while Reamy are still all blissed out and before Karmy inevitably shits all over my OTP. **

**I don't own Faking It, I just own my obsession with Rita Volk.**

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><p>"Are you ready?"<p>

The question is whispered in the older girl's signature husk and you internally swoon at both the tone of Reagan's voice and the sincerity in her words as her dark eyes search yours for any uncertainty. You nod without hesitation, because you _are _ready. You're sure that you want to take this step; sure that Reagan is the one you want to take this step _with_. It hits you then, just how much you do care about the older girl. How grateful you are to have met her. For all her bravado, Reagan is surprisingly considerate with you. She's careful with you, in a way that Karma never was.

Sure, you know that Karma loves you and cares about you. There was never any doubt about that; it's just that Karma can often have a bit of an oversight for how she affects people. Karma gets an idea and she runs with it, she jumps in feet first- consequences be damned. And sometimes with Karma, you feel a little insignificant. You know that Karma has never once meant to hurt you, and you know that Karma has been harbouring all sorts of guilt for breaking your heart by faking it. You _know_ all of this. And still there's a little seed of resentment that you can't quite shake. Maybe if Karma had just stopped and examined the situation she'd have known how you felt. Maybe a lot of heartache could have been avoided.

You never feel insignificant with Reagan. You never fear that your feelings are being overlooked because Reagan is always studying you: with an inquisitive eyebrow and a piercing stare. Always trying to interpret your silence or read your expression, taking delight in her discoveries. Reagan is learning you and you find that it fills you with such a sense of pride to know that you're of such interest to her. You never feel scared with Reagan, which is why you find yourself wanting to erase any doubts that she has about your feelings. You never want to see such a vulnerable terror in Reagan's eyes again, so you nod fervently before you bring your lips to meet hers in a searing kiss. You're clutching the back of her jacket as Reagan's soft hand cradles your jaw, a reassuring thumb stroking along the apple of your cheek.

You can feel her kiss turn more authoritative; she's leading you and you know she's trying to be generous, trying to give you this moment because she knows it's your first. You sigh breathily against her lips as you fall backwards onto the bed, your hands gently pushing her jacket from her shoulders. She hovers over you for a moment and she's looking at you like she's discovered something precious; and suddenly you find that you don't want her to be generous with you, this is something you want to give to her. You want that look to be reflected right back at her because, you realise, _she's_ the hidden gem. You stumbled across her when you weren't looking and she's done nothing but make you smile ever since. So you thread your hand in her dark hair determinedly and bring her lips back to yours, rolling her over so that you're straddling her hips. You hear Reagan let out a gasp of surprise before you're kissing a path along her neck, hands playing at the hem of her shirt, your fingertips grazing the smooth skin of her abdomen. You feel a gentle pressure on your hips as she tries to roll you over again but you resist, pinning her beneath you with a subtle force.

"Amy..?" You hear the question in her tone and even with your face buried in her neck you can tell that she's got that frustrated little crinkle between her eyes. It's your turn to stare down at her as you meet her gaze, "Please Rea," you murmur, resting your forehead against hers "...just let me." You brush your lips against hers reassuringly and you feel her relax. You take it as your cue to let your hands disappear under her shirt and then pull it up and over her head and she mirrors your actions with you. You're kissing her in earnest now, relishing every quiet moan and throaty hum of arousal. In the background, you're vaguely aware of your phone vibrating against the nightstand but you're too caught up in Reagan to really care. Your fingers and lips are exploring lower now, finding new territory across the smooth, tanned expanse of her flat stomach; indulging in the presence of a shiny navel piercing and the sharp intake of breath Reagan draws when your teeth find purchase in the flesh just below it. And before you know it, you're working the button on her denim shorts, sliding them down her legs unhurriedly, enjoying the way your heart reacts to the sight of Reagan lifting her hips off the bed to help you. You catch sight of some decorative ink peeking out above the hemline of her underwear and feel a gleeful excitement at this new discovery, your curiosity piques and as your fingers grip the waistband of her underwear in your haste to reveal her tattoo, you freeze. Suddenly remembering the gravity of this moment; what you'll really be revealing if you keep going.

She feels you tense up and you hear her concerned voice as she places her hand on yours. "Amy? Are you okay?" You hum out an 'mm-hmm' but you can't meet her eyes, you're still frozen in place, staring at that little apex of black ink that's showing on her hip. She's sitting up now, her face level with yours. "Hey" she says softly as she lifts your chin so that she can look in your eyes. "It's okay, you don't have to." If possible her voice is even rougher than usual; it contrasts with the tender way that she's tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I want to" you say honestly, because you do. You know that you're thinking about it too much, irrationally worrying about how inexperienced you are but you can't help it. You want to be good at this. You want it to be good for her. "I just-", you're not sure how to explain this to Reagan without being awkward. "..I don't know what I'm doing." You admit quietly, burying your head in her shoulder to hide your embarrassment. She holds you tightly, pressing a sweet kiss to the side of your hair and you hear a soft chuckle in your ear. "Oh god, are you seriously laughing at me right now?" you groan into her shoulder as you blush furiously. She nudges you playfully her tone full of amusement "I'm laughing at your seamless ability to be both hot _and_ cute, Shrimp Girl." She says cheekily. You look up then, meeting her eyes that are glowing with mirth. "...Hot, huh?" "Extremely." she whispers before kissing you deeply. You smile into the kiss, urging her closer with a hand at the back of her neck but you pull back a little as things get heated again. "You'll help me?" you ask seriously. She nods back at you, slowly taking one of your hands and bringing it down between the two of you in her lap. "Trust me" she whispers "you're doing fine." And then she tentatively brings your joined hands to the juncture of her thighs and presses your fingertips against her centre to prove her point. You gasp at the feeling of her soaked underwear and you're completely transfixed by the look on Reagan's face: her eyes are closed and her bottom lip is drawn between her teeth, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. All of your previous insecurity evaporates as your desire for her takes over. You're kissing her hungrily now and her eyes fly open in surprise as you pin her back down on the bed but she's only thrown for a moment. She kisses you back with equal fervour, her desire matching your own and you know that she's been holding back up to now. Your kisses are everywhere and when you reach her underwear you don't hesitate this time before sliding them off. You're distracted however, by her tattoo, now revealed to be a lotus flower drawn in a geometric design that is daintily placed on her hipbone. You're examining its detail when Reagan's hips rise up from the bed a little "Amy..." she groans impatiently _"Please."_

So you oblige and you explore every inch of her with your lips and then your tongue and her hands are clutching at your sheets and she's making sounds that you want to hear over and over again and when she whispers that she's close you move up so that you can look into her eyes and then she's crying out your name with your forehead resting on hers and your fingers inside of her and then you're smiling because _you did it_ and she's perfect and all you feel is happy.

And when she finally opens her eyes and looks up at you with that flirtatious smirk all you can do is stare. And for the first time with Reagan you actually _do_ feel scared, because this feeling in your heart feels a lot like you're falling in love with her and the last time you felt this way it hurt more than anything you'd ever experienced before and just as you start to panic; Reagan leans up and captures your lips in a kiss that's so full of _everything _that it makes you think she must know exactly what you're thinking. And then you remember: Reagan's not like Karma. Reagan's careful and considerate and Reagan studies you like a subject she's going to be tested on, so you think that _yes_, Reagan knows exactly what you're thinking... And somehow, you know that she's thinking it too.

**-Fin**


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